Mezin carefully weighs the apple tea, shaking a little at a time from the silver scoop. His soft brown eyes gaze up at the scale. The aroma from the loose leaves fills his stall at the Grand Bazaar.

The young shopkeeper is unfazed by the frenzy of Istanbul's storied covered market, which includes 4,000 to 6,000 shops, depending on what resource you're checking. Neighboring vendors, selling everything from much-sought-after Turkish rugs to inlaid turquoise weapons, chase after potential customers.

"I love American movies," he says. "Everyone is happy in America! One day I want to live there or in Europe. And I want to speak with an accent just like yours," he says.

My daughter assures him that he speaks very well.

Mezin credits his mother, who is a professor of English. But she remains in Syria. Fearful for his safety as the deadly civil war escalates in his homeland, his parents sent Mezin to live with relatives in Turkey.

We linger longer in his stall, taking in the vast display of Turkish Delight, a classic Middle Eastern chewy candy that was invented in the late 1700s and introduced to western Europe in the 19th century. Free samples of the cubed, nutty, gelled confection were, after all, what drew us to Mezin's stand in the first place. His stall also offered a respite from the persistent sellers in the labyrinth of the 60 streets that make up the world's original commercial epicenter. We had happily surrendered to the fact that we were going to eat our way through our six-day visit to this ancient city, home to 13.9 million people.

Soon after we entered the maze, we turned down one path as my parents chose another, promising to meet back at the same spot in an hour. Holding bags of Turkish Delight and teas from Mezin, we continued on. Displays of bejeweled lights and colorful clothing coaxed us down other aisles. Deeper and deeper into the warren we delved. Curiosity had led to complete confusion.

The Grand Bazaar had consumed us.

But then there, standing just a short distance away, were my parents.

Which way can we go to get back onto the street? I asked a merchant.

"Which of the 32 exits would you like to use?" he inquired.

We had arrived in this exotic city that spans the continents of Europe and Asia two days earlier. Home base was my niece's apartment in Istanbul's Levent neighborhood, on the western shore of the Bosporus. Her 12th-floor terrace offered spectacular views of the strait, which connects the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara.

When the days gave way to nightfall, we spent a long time watching the ships make their way in and out of the port. The Blue Mosque, with its six minarets, graced the landscape to the right. We heard the Muslim call to prayer five times throughout the day, starting in the early morning. Across the water were the mountains of Asia.

We spent every day in the Old City, a 45-minute adventure we pieced together using the metro, the funicular and the tramway. By the third day, we were navigating with confidence. By the fifth day, we were practically natives.

On the must-visit list was Sultan Ahmet, more popularly known as the Blue Mosque by non-Turks. It is an active house of worship, which requires that shoulders and legs be covered. Women also must have head coverings. Outside, Muslim men and boys sat on benches and used water flowing from pipes on the side of the mosque to cleanse themselves. Muslim women did the same in a private, separate area inside. Everyone entering the mosque must also take off shoes.

The mosque's nickname comes from the tiled walls and stained-glass windows inside, which cast a blue hue as light filters through its 260 windows. The inside is majestic and cavernous; its main dome is vast. The iconic structure was built from 1609 to 1616, during the reign of Sultan Ahmed I.

The nearby Hagia Sophia, which means "Holy Wisdom," was originally a Greek Orthodox basilica built between 532 and 537. Like the Blue Mosque, it is an architectural masterpiece. It later became an imperial mosque and then was converted to a museum in the 1930s. On the the walls inside, mosaics depict Christ and the Virgin Mary, while Muslim icons hang from the ceilings. Scaffolding takes up much of the main level, and ongoing restoration work is evident.

A back cobblestone passageway was a steep walk to the second level, but so worth the climb. The light pouring through the windows proved mystical, practically heavenly.

Our time in Istanbul was quickly evaporating. Our plan to visit Topkapi Palace was delayed by a day. We went on a Tuesday, the only day it is closed. A visit to the Spice Market took its place, a smaller, more intimate bazaar than the Grand, more laid back but just as fascinating.

We returned to Topkapi the next day, with less than 24 hours before our return to the states.

We could have spent our entire vacation at the palace, which includes four grand courts and a harem. The palace was the official home of the sultans for 400 of the 624 years of their reign. As each sultan came to power, they added on. At the height of the Ottoman Empire, more than 4,000 people lived in the complex, which was also the government center. We set our curious sights on the harem and paid 15 lira to tour the private quarters. It is here that the sultan lived with his family. And his concubines. And the eunuchs. The sultans' sons were schooled in the ways of the harem and its hierarchy. The mother of the reigning sultan reigned over the harem.

Secrets of life in the harem are entombed in its courtyards, archways, tiled fireplaces and walls.